Page 51 of The Secret Dinner

1 head of garlic, peeled

4 racks of lamb (about 1¼ lb each)

1 large red onion, thinly sliced

1¾ cup vodka

10 Granny Smith apples

1 cup butter, softened

2 teaspoons cinnamon

1 cup orange juice

½ cup lemon juice

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Salt to taste

INSTRUCTIONS

Add zest, pepper, allspice, cloves, and garlic to a mortar, grind with pestle into a paste.

Cut the lamb into chops and marinate with the spice paste, onion, and vodka for 30 minutes.

Cut apples into quarters. Remove core but keep the skin. Whip half the butter with the cinnamon, then mix with the apples and bake for 20 minutes at 350 degrees in a pan covered with aluminum foil. Baste with the juices and return to the oven without the aluminum foil for another 15 minutes at 400 degrees. Set aside.

Remove the lamb from the marinade, season with salt, and sear in a frying pan with the olive oil. Strain the marinade and set aside.

Deglaze the pan of apples with the strained marinade. Bring to a boil, then place the rack of lamb on a baking sheet with the remaining butter. Cover with aluminum foil and bake for 15 minutes at 300 degrees.

Sear the lamb in the frying pan, deglazing with the reduction.

HOW TO SERVE

Spoon the reduction onto the plate, place meat in the center and apples on the side. Sprinkle with citrus zest.

For a more exotic and flavorful dish, substitute the lamb entrecôte with 7 pounds of human gluteus maximus.

Serves 10

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

1

Two Klonopin were enough to knock me out. I didn’t have any nightmares or wake up in a cold sweat. Anybody who saw me under those sheets would have said I was sleeping without a worry in the world. Saturday morning was overcast, and I was only scheduled to go in to the bookstore at three. I tossed and turned in bed, not wanting to get up. The events of the previous night had faded into my memory like nothing more than a fever dream: the music, the people, the smells, the food … Bukowski’s dented fender, however, was very real. And the dead man, with blood gushing from his neck. I couldn’t just sweep it all under the rug and move on.

I took a long shower, wishing the water could wash away any moral impurities. I got a glass of milk from the kitchen and noticed all the dishes had been washed, including the half-empty glass of wine I’d left before going to bed. There was no one in the laundry room, kitchen, or living room. Piglet could have still been asleep with Cora and maybe Miguel wasn’t back yet, but Hugo should have been on the couch watching TV and checking Michelin Guide restaurant websites, like he did every weekend. I checked his room, but he wasn’t there.

As I started to get dressed, I heard keys jangling. I walked down the hallway and caught Hugo tiptoeing in through the back door. When he saw me, he straightened up.

“I thought you’d already left…”

“I’m just getting ready for work. Are you avoiding me?”

He went to the kitchen and got a glass of water. I followed him.